Personal Space Violations
by gglovebug
Summary: GSR. What was really going on in the "hamburger scene" from episode 2x15 Burden of Proof? Grissom's POV. Response to an OLD Unbound Improv Challenge.


**Disclaimer:** All rights to CSI: Crime Scene Investigation and its characters belong to CBS/Alliance Atlantis/Jerry Bruckheimer Television/Anthony E. Zuiker. No copyright infringement is intended.

**Category:** Unbound Improv Challenge Response. First and last lines are provided with a 1,000 word limit.

**Summary:** G/S. What was really going on in the "hamburger scene" from episode 2x15 _Burden of Proof_? Grissom's POV. **The dialogue is verbatim from the episode, but everything in between is my own invention.**

**A/N:** This is my response to the challenge of 07/05/04; however, I never posted it. My best friends and betas, Joy and Rica, liked it and encouraged me to go ahead and post it, even if it is now 3 months later… so here it is. I hope you enjoy it.

**AA/N: **For those of you awaiting an update to _Aftermath_ – I _am_ working on it, I promise! A _very_ stubborn muse and some real life happenstances have interrupted, but things finally seem to be working out. Thank you for your patience!

* * *

**__**

**_"Would you please stop doing that?"_** Grissom wanted to scream out loud at Sara, but he managed to keep the desperate plea from escaping his lips and attempted instead to explain his current experiment to her, all the while battling against his body's traitorous reaction to her close proximity - which was growing closer by the second.

Grissom had been alone, peering through a magnifying lens as he hovered over his experiment when Sara had breezed her way into the room and so casually settled herself next to him. At first, she wasn't actually touching him - just a hairbreadth away – but it was close enough for their individual auras to overlap, shooting frissons of electricity throughout his body that almost made him groan out loud.

"So, this is your experiment, huh?" Sara bent down to take a closer look, her face so close to his that he could feel her warm breath feather-soft upon his cheek.

Sara continued, intrigued. "So, because you found beef in the wound tracts of the victim, you think the meat might be from one of the body farm cows?"

"Did the fly find the beef in the wound and lay its eggs or did it bring the beef with him?" he asked as he struggled to focus on the mound of hamburger covered with flies beneath the net in front of him and not the sweet scent that was uniquely Sara: the scent that always alerted him to her presence even before he actually saw her.

"I did an experiment similar to this in San Francisco except the cross-contamination was blood. Wasn't a murder case, but it was instructional." Her voice was husky, low, and sensual to his ears even though the comment was strictly a professional one.

It was impossible to concentrate._ It doesn't help any that the screen covering the beef looks like a giant breast_, Grissom thought ruefully to himself.

He straightened, in more ways than one, and put the magnifying glass down.

As Grissom stood, so did Sara, her breasts brushing and resting against his arm as she turned to look at him. She was completely violating his personal space and he had the distinct impression that she knew it.

_She has to stop touching me like that!_ Not that he didn't like it – oh, he liked it alright – that was the problem. And today, he liked it more than usual. More than was safe.

"None of these beef particles are as big as the tissue found in Mike Kimble's wound tract. And I found out the ex-husband is the proud owner of a registered handgun." Grissom was impressed by the fact that he could still form a coherent sentence.

"Hmm, what does that mean?" Sara didn't move away. It was as if she was attached to his body with Velcro as she tried to capture his gaze, but he wouldn't look at her. Mustn't. If he did, he was certain he'd be lost.

Suddenly, he realized, "_She knows exactly what she's doing to me!"_

He had to get out of there. Now.

"It means I need to see that gun," he managed to say as he aimed towards the door in an effort to escape. Sara called out to him.

"Uh, Grissom ... aren't you going to tell me anything?" Her brows were furrowed in confusion.

He groaned internally. The last thing he wanted to do right now was to turn around and face her. Then she'd see just _exactly_ what kind of an effect she was having on him.

"About?"

"The case, the meat, what you found ...?"

"I'm working it."

"I thought I was working it with you." Sara's voice was soft, gentle… hurt.

"Yes. You're right, you are." He sighed. _Now what?_ He had to get out of there. "So… take some photos of the experiment for the D.A. and then ... uh ... get rid of that stuff." _Yeah, that's good. _He turned to leave. Sara stopped him again.

"That meat... the raw meat... me?" She shook her head, incredulous.

He wasn't following. "Yeah..."

"How many meals have we shared together?"

Grissom had no idea why this was relevant. "I don't know."

Sara's voice was rising in exasperation. "Take a _guess_ -- over a year working together."

He didn't have time for this. Couldn't she see how uncomfortable he was? His mouth opened and his eyebrows rose as he shook his head trying to formulate an appropriate response. "Thirty."

"I'm a vegetarian. Everyone here _knows_ I'm a vegetarian. I haven't eaten meat since we stayed up that night with that dead pig." Her voice trailed off and as she continued on, grew a little quieter. "It pains me to see ground beef; forget about cleaning it up."

_Damn._ He knew that. He just wasn't thinking clearly at the moment.

"Okay. Have Nick do it." Again he turned to make his escape, and this time managed to make it all of the way out the door. He didn't see Sara's extremely disappointed face staring at the void he had left behind him.

Rounding the corner, Grissom made a beeline for his office, stepping in and shutting the door quickly. Finally… a reprieve from the sensual torture that Sara inflicted upon his all-too-willing body. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, sweat beading up on his forehead. Dropping his head back against the coolness of the metal door he sighed; his relief bittersweet. **"That's better."  
  
**FIN


End file.
